


an option for music and water

by crookedspoon



Category: Batman and Robin (Comics)
Genre: Author's Favorite, Bathing/Washing, Bathtubs, Brotherly Affection, Fluff and Angst, Gen, POV Dick Grayson, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 08:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16384529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: "You know, a closed door usually means 'stay out' even when it's not closed," he says as he lifts the wet flannel from his face. "At the very least you could have knocked. It's common courtesy."





	an option for music and water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PleasantlyCasualStrawberry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PleasantlyCasualStrawberry/gifts).



> Well, this was just supposed to be a cute 500 words, but I guess my heart is overflowing like the tub they're sitting in.
> 
> For PleasantlyCasualStrawberry, as thanks for doing such a stellar job beta-reading the latest chapter of Fingers to the head. Please accept my gratitude in the form of more words to read.

Soaking his sore muscles in steaming water, Dick slowly feels the ache drain out of them. His thoughts are muted to a buzz in the haze it creates and it's a more than welcome change to the high-alert processing he does in the field.

He's about to drift off when a slight breeze tickles his bare arms. They are draped along the rim of the tub and drying off.

"You know, a closed door usually means 'stay out' even when it's not closed," he says as he lifts the wet flannel from his face. "At the very least you could have knocked. It's common courtesy."

"I have a request," Damian says stiffly, standing pressed and neat in front of the tub while ignoring its contents, meaning Dick, at the same time. Dick supposes it's the nature of the request that flusters him, not the fact that Dick is in the bath or else Damian would not have accosted him here. In any case, Dick feels decent despite his state of undress. A mountainous range of foam is hiding everything but his arms from view.

"If you tell me what it is."

"Close your eyes, please."

"That's not much telling," Dick jokes, "but since you said please, how can I refuse?"

He places the flannel back over his face and waits. Damian huffs. After a moment of silence, his clothes rustle and Dick smiles to himself, tired but endlessly fond. He never would have imagined he'd live to see the day Damian wanted to share a bath with him but now that it's here, he's not going to turn it down.

Listening to Damian fold away his slacks, vest and button-up makes a feeling of pride swell in his chest. He can't express in words what it means to him that Damian seeks out his company, especially if it's in a vulnerable place like this. 

When the water finally ripples against him, he has to suppress the urge to tug Damian closer, to envelop him in a bear hug, to nuzzle his cheek until he spits profanities and curses Dick's name to high heaven – and also to dunk him in a show of brotherly affection. Damian would hate him for any of it and Dick wouldn't be able to sleep in the manor anymore, knowing he'd wake up with a sword in his side.

But that's what makes it so thrilling.

"I'm starting to suffocate," he says and nudges Damian with his good knee. 

If this were Jason, for example, he'd have expected something along the lines of, "What's stopping you, Grayson?" or "Go ahead, what do you need my permission for?"

Then again, Jason would never climb in the bathtub with him, even if he'd wanted to – his pride is too prickly for that. He'd sooner swallow his own tongue than admit he has human needs, like that of connection.

Sure, seeking it out in the bath is a bit strange, but this is Damian. Strange is a family trait. Given their lifestyles, not even Dick is sure what classifies as normal anymore.

"Very well, you may look now."

"How gracious of you," Dick teases, but the moment his eyes settle on Damian, his stomach twists.

The little one is sitting perfectly still between him and the other end of the tub, back turned to him. Rising out of the foam, there's a nasty pink scar bisecting the expanse of it, reminding him of the horror he'd felt when Damian got shot in the spine.

Dick feels the urge to hug this kid again, but this time it's coupled with the fear of hurting him. His mother's scientists may have 'fixed' him so that Dick could pinch Damian's leg and expect to be kicked in return for it, but he's still so small that Dick can't help but feel protective of him. He has his whole life ahead of him yet and shouldn't have to have to experience the wear and tear that comes with doing what they do for a long time to come.

Dick's knee twinges in sympathy.

"I want you to wash my back," Damian says into the silence that stretches between them like like a particularly sticky piece of gum.

Dick tries for levity in the face of it, if not for Damian's benefit then for his own. "What am I, your manservant?" he asks, but reaches for the loofah nonetheless.

Damian scoffs. "You'd bring shame on the profession, Grayson."

"I'm glad to know you think so highly of me."

Dick squeezes out the sponge over Damian's shoulders, watching rivulets of water pour down the slopes of his arms. It has something soothing and hypnotic about it, unlike the monotone boredom the instruction "lather, rinse, repeat" suggests.

Damian twitches when Dick runs the sponge up the soft underside of his arms, delighted to find that Damian might be ticklish. He files that information away for later use, when he feels more devious than he does now.

It would be wrong to destroy this moment they're having. Dick views it as a gift from Damian, more precious than anything wealth could buy.

"Tell me when I need to go easy," he murmurs as he wrings out a swath of water over Damian's back. 

Damian clicks his tongue. "It's just a scratch."

The gross minimization of his injury saddens Dick more than he could say. He wants this kid to know it's okay to value your own life, but perhaps he's not the best person to bring this up. Perhaps none of them are. Running headlong into danger is what they do.

Still, he can't let this go uncommented. 

"You don't have to act so tough all the time, you know that, right? It's okay to admit when you're in pain."

"And _you_ don't have to coddle me. I told you I'm fine."

Sensing himself and, more importantly, Damian close off again, Dick can't let his opportunity for wordplay slip by, silly though it may be. "Cuddle, you say?"

He winds his arms around Damian and pulls him flush against his chest. It strikes him again how how tiny he is, how soft and fragile, like a baby bird.

"Don't be weird about this, Grayson," Damian says, his feeble struggles sending water splashing over the edge. "I can still punch your teeth out even if washing my own back provides a challenge."

Dick chuckles. "Of that I've no doubt."

Being the mean older brother he is, he places a kiss against Damian's temple and rests his cheek against him, simply inhaling his warmth. Damian is glowing against him, likely with shame and indignation, and Dick welcomes it all as the sign of life it is.

"I could have lost you, baby wing," he whispers, brushing the hair out of Damian's face and kissing his temple again.

"You're getting mushy," Damian growls and elbows him, trying to get away.

Dick lets him; he's tormented him enough for one day. Damian probably agrees. Next thing he knows, Damian slaps the sopping flannel over Dick's eyes and all but jumps out of the tub. The water sloshes in the wake of his departure.

Damian's modesty is something so uncharacteristically childlike that Dick wants to preserve it no matter the cost, so he keeps his face covered and contends himself to listen to the muttering, the furious scrubbing and the angry hiss of fabric with a smile on his lips. The kid is a menace, but Dick loves him anyway.

After a while the sounds die down and Dick, having neither heard nor felt Damian leave, wonders if he's simply vanished into thin air. Dick lifts one edge of the flannel to find Damian still there, fingers curled tightly, shoulders set, as if considering what to say.

For a second, Dick wonders if he'd gone a step too far. Damian resents physical contact and he'd trusted Dick not to push his comfort zone when he sought him out. But Damian's next words surprise Dick so hard he sits up straight, flannel falling off his face and splashing into the water. 

"Thank you."

Dick can hardly believe his ears. The world must really be coming to an end. At least, Dick's is. His eyes, however, don't betray him. Of course Damian would look like he'd swallowed sour grapes saying that.

"You may be hopeless as a manservant, but your services were appreciated nonetheless."

There, that's more like it. Dick huffs with amusement. "If you continue to praise me this highly, it might start going to my head."

"Please, it's bloated enough as it is."

Dick grins and reaches out dripping fingers to ruffle Damian's hair. They are rebuffed.

"Anything you need, baby bird, anytime. You know that, right?"

Damian exhales forcefully through his nose as if to disagree, but his head is ducked and his eyes meet Dick's through lowered lashes. It's as much acknowledgement as he's going to get.

Dick takes it. Another gift from Damian.

"Now get out of here and let me enjoy my bath in peace."

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Vertigo" by Elena Karina Byrne.
> 
> Come say hi: [dreamwidth](https://crookedspoon.dreamwidth.org/) | [pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/crookedspoon) | [tumblr](https://crookedspoonfic.tumblr.com/) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/crookedteaspoon)


End file.
